


Another Live Crew Job

by buriedbybooks



Series: Leverage-Warehouse 13 Crossovers [2]
Category: Leverage, Warehouse 13
Genre: Crossover, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24381358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buriedbybooks/pseuds/buriedbybooks
Summary: Shenanigans ensue when Warehouse 13 tries to track down the artifact responsible for Agent Taggert and Agent McSweeten’s quick rise through the ranks, and Parker sees a man who looks like Victor Dubenich when running a con.
Relationships: Alec Hardison/Parker/Eliot Spencer, Steve Jinks/Liam Napier
Series: Leverage-Warehouse 13 Crossovers [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2034829
Comments: 15
Kudos: 105





	1. Just Another Day on the Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JustAsSweet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAsSweet/gifts).



> This work came out of a mind-game-spit-ball session (or five) with JustAsSweet, where we discussed potential interactions if the characters from Warehouse 13 and Leverage ever met each other. I will admit here that I only vaguely know where this fiction would sit in the timelines of each show--definitely after the end of Leverage season 5, and late in Warehouse 13 (Abigail is proprietress of the B&B). Don't be angry with the tags; I made them to reflect the whole work. The Leverage crew will appear in Chapter 2, I promise!

**Somewhere in South Dakota**

Pete had just sat down with a bowl of cold cereal and a banana when he heard the front door slam. “Aww, man… why does he always bring us assignments before we finish breakfast?” he asked Myka, who was systematically slicing and eating an apple beside him at the table.

She paused what she was doing and just stared at him. “When else would Artie know exactly where to find us?”

“True, but still.” Pete stuffed a bite of cereal in his mouth before continuing, “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day.”

“And you still eat it like a child,” she answered, carefully slicing another piece of her apple. “It’s not like this is any different than when we first got here.”

Pete mumbled his agreement while he peeled the banana. On slow weeks, the assignments were handed out over breakfast. When the world went cray cray, then they could get sent anywhere at any time. Even though Pete still thought it rude to interrupt breakfast, he did prefer this to the alternative.

“Assignments, there’s a couple of FBI Agents… Where are Steve and Claudia?” Artie paused, not quite passing the folder to Myka when he realized that the two youngest agents weren’t at the table.

Myka half stood and reached across the table to take the folder from Artie. “Steve left to get home for the surprise party for his mom, and Claudia was up late last night running a Warehouse systems check.”

“Oh, right, but the Warehouse system is… Nevermind.” Artie sat down and handed another folder to Pete.

Myka was already reading through hers; Pete continued to down his cereal as fast as he could. These meetings always ended on a short-notice plane ride.

“We’re investigating FBI agents?” Pete was familiar with that particular Myka expression and tone. She thought this would be a case that left them chasing their own tails.

“Yes. Agents Taggert and McSweeten have had a recent and meteoric rise--relatively speaking for the internal workings of the FBI. Over the last few years, they have greatly improved their case closure rate. And, they have started closing cases to which they, and the FBI have not been assigned.”

“And this is a bad thing?” Pete knew that he was making faces at Artie, but, really, wasn’t that the point of law enforcement?

“If they’re using an artifact, yes.” Artie waved his hands at the files Pete and Myka were holding. “Who knows what the downside would be--framing people, increased aggression, slow deterioration of the brain.” Artie turned his glare on Pete. “Insubordination.”

“Yes, or they could have actually been improving as investigators,” Myka argued, pulling one of the papers out of the folder to read more fully. “Their closure rates are improving, but they’re also sporadic.”

“Yes… but I say it’s a ping worth investigating.” Artie pushed his glasses back up his nose. “They are between assignments and working out of the Seattle office. Go. Now. Your flight leaves in two hours.”

Myka snapped her folder shut and picked up her dishes. Pete looked at Artie, then at Myka’s retreat into the kitchen. He fit the remainder of his banana in his mouth, put his folder under his arm, and picked up his dish. At least Seattle had good coffee.

**Inside the Warehouse**

The door to the umbilical cord chirped, alerting Artie that he was no longer alone in the Warehouse office. Turning, he saw Claudia approaching him holding two cups of coffee, one for herself and one which she offered to him.

“You’re late,” he grumbled, accepting the coffee and sipping appreciatively. She’d actually added sugar and cream to it for him; now all Artie needed was a cookie. Or a scone.

“Well look who’s a Mr. Grumpy Pants this morning,” Claudia teased, even as she tried covering up a yawn. She flopped in one of the arm chairs. “Something in particular happen?”

Artie tried to glare at her but was enjoying the coffee too much. “No. We have flights to New Orleans in four hours. Abigail will keep an eye on the Warehouse until we get back.”

Claudia sat up straighter. “We got a ping?”

“We got a ping. A Dr. Pamela Richard has started being selective about which patients she sees, despite working in the E.R. She has also gotten into a number of arguments with colleagues and other staff at the hospital.”

“There’s a pattern to which patients she’s refusing.” Claudia raised her eyebrow at him. “Come on, spit it out.”

“She’s refusing to see any male patients, and has only gotten into fights with male colleagues.”

Claudia whistled. “That’s a pattern all right. What’re you thinking? One of Anne Lister’s diaries?”

Artie shoved at his glasses as he considered. “Possible but not likely; don’t think they would have this sort of downside. Could be a particularly militant suffragette artifact. We’ll have to see when we get there. Go pack a bag, it could take a few days.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” Claudia stretched as she stood up, yawning again.

“And Claudia?”

She turned back to look at him.

“You’ll be doing most of the talking on this one,” Artie decided.

**Seattle**

Myka had scheduled a meeting with Taggert and McSweeten before their flight took off and read through their briefing folders three times before they touched down in Seattle. Pete had watched reruns of the Great British Baking Show, and now he was hungry.

“Do we have time to grab lunch before we get to the field office?” Pete asked as they grabbed their carry on luggage.

Myka raised an eyebrow at him. “The snack box wasn’t enough?’

“No…”

She sighed, but it was one of the ones that said she found him endearing as well as annoying. “Fine. We can grab something to go. We only have an hour and a half, though, and who knows how long we’ll be in line getting the rental car.”

“I’ll be quick,” Pete assured her.

Myka just rolled her eyes at him and started striding down the hallway. Pete took his time; he’d catch up while she was still in line for the car.

The timing actually worked out pretty well, Pete thought as he finished off his last french fry. They were just walking into the Seattle Field Office with ten minutes until their appointment. Two men were waiting in the lobby, chatting comfortably. It was obvious to Pete that they were partners--there was a level of familiarity, and unconscious mirroring in the way they moved together. Maybe these were their guys.

“Agent Taggert?” Myka asked, approaching them.

“Yes. You must be Agent Bering. Good to meet you,” the older of the two men said, holding out a hand genially. “Sounded like you had some interesting questions when we talked over the phone.”

“Yes. Thank you for taking the time to talk with us,” Myka agreed. “This is my partner, Pete Lattimer. And you are Agent McSweeten?”

The younger man smiled and shook their hands. “That I am. We can grab coffee from the break room before we sit down to talk if you like.”

“That would be great, thanks,” Pete said before Myka could decline. She always declined unless he got there first.

She shot him a “behave” look. Pete just shrugged. It was going to be a long day. Coffee would help, and maybe there’d be treats, too.

Coffee in hand, and a couple of cookies liberated from the break room, the four sat down in Taggert’s office. 

“So, you said you had questions for us about our previous cases?” Taggert kicked back in his chair and sipped his coffee, completely unconcerned about Secret Service Agents asking him questions about his case record.

Myka took point. “Yes. We noticed that your closure rate has greatly increased, and you both have been rising quickly through the FBI ranks because of it.”

McSweeten smiled and crossed his legs as he got settled in. Pete saw him glance at Taggert for a silent check before turning back to Myka. “That’s not really a question. If you’re wondering if we’re doing something shady to get those closures, the answer is we’re not.”

“What are you doing differently?” Pete asked.

Taggert shrugged. “Nothing, really. Did the work, got lucky in some cases. Right place, right time, you know.”

“Something changed when you cracked the Moscone case,” Myka pressed. “How did you solve that when you had… one bug, was it?”

McSweeten smiled. Pete knew that smile; the man was remembering a woman. Or a man, if he swung that way, but Pete was guessing a woman.

“As I said, just got lucky,” Taggert told them, his mustache twitching a bit. “Though, that was when Thomas made sure our memo made it up the chain. That probably helped with getting better cases.”

McSweeten looked at his partner and nodded, “Yeah, you’re right. I forgot about that.”

“You were distracted by Hagen,” Taggert reminded the younger agent. “Always are when she comes in on a case.”

Yup, Pete knew how to read that smile. Guess the sweet memory McSweeten was thinking about was an agent named Hagen.

“Thomas and Hagen are other FBI agents?” Myka clarified.

“Oh, yeah. Great team. Good to work with, smart,” McSweeten agreed.

Pete leaned forward a bit, catching McSweeten’s eye. “You work with Agent Hagen often?”

The wry returning smile told him that McSweeten knew he’d been caught. “Not as much as I’d like,” he answered.

“We agreed we wouldn’t see other partners,” Taggert added. It sounded like an old argument.

“So you saw them on the Moscone case. When did you next work with them?” Myka asked.

“Well, we didn’t really work with them on the Moscone case; we just met them then.” Taggert scratched his chin and looked over at McSweeten. “Next time would have been, what, when were guarding Fowler in Boston?”

“That was a good case.” Another smile.

Pete held back a snort. McSweeten was obviously still smitten with Agent Hagen.

“That was back in...2009?”

Myka had a photographic memory, so Pete knew that had to be correct. That was a few years ago now. Surely they’d seen the other agents more recently than that.

“Mmmm. Sounds about right.”

“Did anything else new come into your lives around that time?” Myka asked.

“Like what?” McSweeten’s expression was completely confused.

“Any new… collections?” Myka questioned.

This was the part Pete always found both entertaining and challenging. How to figure out what strange random object had come into their lives to make a difference. Hopefully they wouldn’t end up with smelling fudge again… that always made him want chocolate. Not that that was really different from any other time.

“An inheritance perhaps?” Pete expanded.

Taggert and McSweeten looked at each other, then back across at Myka. They shook their heads almost in unison.

“We’ve been moving around too much to collect much in our offices, or really put down roots,” McSweeten told them. “Have had to live light for a while.”

“You didn’t even keep many of your dad’s things, did you?” Taggert checked in with his partner.

McSweeten shook his head. “I donated most of it, sold the house. It was what he would have wanted.”

“Right. Good man, your father.”

“So, no, Agent Bering, no real collections for either of us,” McSweeten said, bringing the conversation back.

“I understand completely,” Myka agreed.

She was smiling her, _I think there’s nothing going on with these two--definitely not a threat smile._ Pete agreed. He got the feeling that both these men were completely honest. Kinda dull, actually.

“When did you say was the last time you worked with Agent Thomas and Agent Hagen?”

Pete watched their faces carefully. McSweeten did not check in with Taggert this time.

The older man shrugged. “It’s been a while.”

How… vague. And McSweeten was not going to elaborate on Taggert’s answer.

“Congratulations on all of your promotions,” Pete told them as he stood. He surreptitiously tried to brush cookie crumbs off his pants.

“Thank you for talking to us today.” Myka also stood and held out a hand.

Final pleasantries exchanged, Pete and Myka walked back to their rental.

“What do you think, partner? Artifact?” Pete asked.

“No. Those two are as straight as they come. No muss, no fuss. I think that Thomas and Hagen might be more interesting to talk to.” Myka looked at him over the top of her sunglasses.

“Hmmm. Sounds like they drop in and drop out a bit,” he agreed.

“Did you also catch that McSweeten was thinking of some case other than the ones that they mentioned?”

“Yup. McSweeten has it bad for Agent Hagen. Wonder what Agent Thomas thinks about that…”

Myka snorted. “You can ask him or her when we talk to them.”

**New Orleans**

Artie did not like hospitals. Unfortunately, he didn’t get to avoid them as much as he’d prefer. Lots of people whammied by artifacts ended up in places like this. Looking around, this E.R. in New Orleans looked much like every other E.R. he’d had the displeasure of visiting. There was more color here, perhaps. Mardi Gras spirit. Lots of artifacts to come out of that tradition. He really hated what some of those did.

Claudia was sitting next to him, laptop out. From what Artie could see of the screen, she had hacked into the Hospital employee calendar. “Find her?”

“Yeah. She’s got an office; and she’ll be off in about... twenty minutes. Bet she stops by before she leaves for the day.”

There was a crash nearby, and a woman in scrubs stormed out into the hallway between the E.R. and the waiting room. Artie couldn’t quite catch what she was yelling at her colleague, but he was obviously trying to placate her.

“Sounds like she doesn’t want men near her female patients, nurse or doctor. I bet this is our woman,” Claudia murmured.

The female doctor stormed off away from the patient area and toward what Artie assumed were the offices. He tightened his hand on his bag. “Yes. Follow her?”

Claudia stopped him from getting up with a hand on his arm. “Artie, Dr. Richard just lost it because a man got too near one of her patients. I don’t think she’ll talk if you’re anywhere near me.”

“Hmmm. You’re probably right, but I don’t want you alone with her. Looks like her temper is escalating.” Artie settled back and met Claudia’s eyes. She was definitely capable of taking care of herself these days. Had saved the world a number of times, had saved him. Still, he didn’t like sending her into a dangerous situation. “Talk to her in public. Keep her away from her office; I’ll search it while you talk to her. The artifact may be close by; hopefully. If it’s this strong and not in close proximity…”

“Shit will hit the fan,” Claudia agreed. “What?”

Artie glared. She knew

“Fine. Sorry,” she huffed. “Keep her in public. I can buy you twenty minutes?”

Artie nodded. “That will work.”

Claudia shut her computer and put it in her satchel. “She’s in office 223; give me five minutes to clear her out.”

It was Artie’s turn to stop her with a hand on her arm. When she looked at him, Artie pushed his glasses back up his nose. “Be careful.”

“Always am,” Claudia reminded him.

Artie checked the clock and then watched her disappear from sight. Five minutes. As soon as the time had passed, Artie picked up his bag again and headed down the hallway. Thankfully this hospital seemed to have been well planned so it was easy to find the correct office. Trying the door, Artie found that Claudia had slipped a piece of tape over the mortice so he didn’t have to worry about taking time to unlock it.

The office was painfully neat, which made his job easier. Looking around, Artie took a quick survey of the room, breaking it into searchable sections: desk, bookshelves, filing cabinet. The only objects that were even remotely non-functional were on the desk and bookshelves, so that’s where he started.

Setting his bag down on the desk chair, Artie put on a pair of gloves, pulled out the can of neutralizer and started misting objects sitting on the desk’s surface--her name plate, a ceramic mug, the letter opener. Nothing. His option was now to start going through drawers or look at objects sitting out on the shelf.

A letter propped open on the corner of her desk caught Artie’s eye. That was a bit out of place given how uncluttered the rest of the desk was. Picking it up, he read the note inside. A relative had given her an antique microscope to commemorate a 20 year work anniversary. Still holding the card, Artie scanned the bookshelves. There it was, and it looked like it had a name plate. Reaching out, he picked it up to turn it and look at the faded engraving.

_E. Bass, M.D._

“Bass…. Bass…” Artie muttered. The name rang a faint bell, but he couldn’t place it just now. He the microscope back on the shelf and misted it with neutralizer. It sparked angrily. It was going to take a more thorough soaking… and the canister of neutralizer was out in the rental car.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” An angry voice asked from behind him.

“I was just… admiring… this microscope,” Artie said as he turned around, holding the microscope.

Dr. Richard was standing in the doorway, hands on hips, absolutely fuming.

“What are you doing in my office?” She demanded.

“Waiting. I was worried about my… niece. Yes, my niece…” Artie hedged, watching Claudia shaking her head and waving her arms. In response, he glanced down at the microscope in his hands.

“My uncle must have gotten sick of being in the car,” Claudia said with a forced chuckle. “He doesn’t always stay where I want him to. But he’s harmless.”

Dr. Richard turned to Claudia. “He’s your uncle?”

“Yes. Can’t pick our relatives, and all that,” Claudia continued, moving slowly and maneuvering so that she was between Artie and Dr. Richard.

There was nothing else for it. Artie set the microscope down on the desk. Grabbing the mister, he broke off the top so he could dump the liquid goo over the object.

Dr. Richard, who was trying to push past Claudia jerked to a stop. “What…?”

“Sorry for intruding Dr. Richard,” Artie told her as she blinked at him. “This microscope was purchased at a store specializing in antique medical supplies. They didn’t know that there’d been a… spill…”

“Of a neurotoxin,” Claudia added. “One that can increase one’s response to irritants and lower inhibitions.”

Dr. Richard’s expression said she didn’t quite believe them, but she knew that something had changed. And that something had been wrong.

Artie bagged the microscope and scooted around the desk, shepherding Claudia out ahead of him before the doctor could ask any more questions.

“The microscope belonged to a Dr. E. Bass,” he told her. “And it was very active.”

Claudia pulled out her phone. “Looks like she was a local--and you were right, Artie. She was a suffragette. Also one of the first women to teach at Tulane’s Medical School.”

That was it. “She wasn’t militant, though. She just worked toward equal opportunities in education and practice for male and female medical students.”

Claudia checked her phone again and then frowned at him. “How did you know that?”

Artie raised an eyebrow. Surely she was familiar with how much he knew by now. “There was another artifact that MacPhearson and I picked up in New Orleans that was from one of the militant suffragette branches. Of which Elizabeth Bass was not a part. I did my research, and I do still have a good memory.”

She snorted at him, tucking her phone back in her bag. “Sure. And it’s all still filed on index cards.”

“Let’s just get it back to the Warehouse… before I keel over of old age.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are a couple of actual historical figures mentioned in this chapter.
> 
> Anne Lister (1791-1840) was an English landowner and sometimes considered to be the “first modern lesbian”. There have been a number of TV adaptations of her life and journals; Gentleman Jack is the most recent, and I do recommend it.
> 
> Dr. Elizabeth Bass (1876-1956) was a physician and suffragette who worked to gain access for women to medical school, hospital internships, and professional societies. There is more information about her in the Tulane University archives and libraries.


	2. There’s No Such Thing as Ghosts

Parker did not like hospitals. All of the health and safety considerations of HVAC and air handling in these places meant that the ducts were often impassable due to filters, scrubbers, and air flow rates. That meant when dealing with hospitals, she had to use the hallways instead. Much more exposed, and much less fun.

“Hallway is clear.” Hardison’s voice filtered in through the earbud. “You have a straight shot to Caldwell’s office.”

“You’ll need to be quick. Looks like Caldwell is almost done with his meal,” Eliot added. There was a harshness in his tone that Parker recognized.

Hardison recognized it too. “I know you want to go and punch him, man. I do too. But that’s not going to help us solve this one.”

“The man is scamming parents by telling them that their kids are sick and draining them for all their worth,” Eliot growled.

“So we get the money back.” Parker repeated it like a mantra because she was having trouble with her temper as well. Exploiting children was unforgivable. Eliot and Hardison were just as furious as she was, and just as eager to make this man pay.

“We get the money back, and we make sure his license is revoked,” Hardison agreed. “You need to go now, mama. Your window is getting smaller.”

Parker walked briskly down the hallway--amazing that no one ever tried to stop you if you looked like you knew exactly what you were doing. Caldwell’s office door was locked, of course, but it was simple to pick. Glancing at her watch to mark her time, Parker smiled; good enough, though not her best for this type of lock.

The office was a disaster. Thankfully, Parker didn’t have to search for the computer, since a laptop was sitting open on Caldwell’s desk. Quickly, she inserted the flash drive Hardison had given her and typed in the commands he’d taught her. As soon as all of the files were transferred to the flash drive, Parker made a sweep of the room, just in case there might be a safe. There was, and she was able to clear it out of cash.

“He’s got a set of fake passports. Caldwell may have done this before.” Parker grabbed them too.

“Damn. A’ight, we’ll have to dig through the records on his other aliases and make sure we find any previous victims.” Parker could hear Hardison typing furiously.

“How’d you miss that, Hardison?” Eliot demanded. “I thought you did a full background on this guy.”

“Nothing popped on facial recognition anywhere. And there’s nothing I can do if there’s no trail to follow.” Hardison’s tone was slightly defensive and slightly annoyed; he’d explained this to them before. “Parker, you gotta go, girl. Throw the spike and move.”

Parker ran one more command at the laptop, giving it viruses so it would never work properly again and all files would be corrupted beyond recovery. She pocketed the flash drive and headed to the door.

“Wait. Two people headed your way, just came out of another office.”

She froze, peeking out into the hallway. There was a young woman with mid-length reddish hair and dark clothes and makeup. She was talking with a man, slightly behind her, as they walked. He was carrying something awkward wrapped in a metallic silver bag. Parker was more interested in the bag, but she still got a glimpse of the man’s face before he passed out of sight.

“Eliot!”

“What’s wrong, Parker?” His tone was immediately serious.

“Dubenich. I just saw Dubenich.”

There was a loud chorus of disbelief that filtered in over the comms as Parker slipped out into the hallway.

“No, really. I just saw Dubenich. He was with a girl; carrying some sort of bagged object. He’s headed toward the E.R. exit. I can follow them.” Parker started down the hallway.

“Parker, no,” Eliot ordered. She could hear him running. “Our job is to get the money, the information, and get out. You get to an exit. I’ll check out your ghost.”

“I’m pulling up cameras,” Hardison added.

Parker heard Eliot swearing as he maneuvered his way through the hospital toward the E.R. “I’m never going to catch up at this rate. Hardison, have you got eyes?”

“Not yet.”

“Get to the E.R. parking lot,” Parker ordered as she broke into a run, dodging doctors, nurses, and patients as she made her way toward the closest exterior door. 

“You got it.”

The van started up and she could hear Hardison peel out. She would be the last one to the E.R. exit. Hopefully the boys would catch sight of the same man she had. Dubenich was dead, and there were no such things as ghosts. Right?

“I don’t see them.” Hardison’s voice was clear, and Parker could hear from the background noises that he was outside the van now.

“I didn’t see them, either.” Eliot didn’t even sound out of breath despite the fact that he must have sprinted to get to the E.R. that quickly. “Sweetheart, you sure it was Dubenich?”

Parker stopped running and closed her eyes, replaying what she had seen. The young woman had been clearer. The man. “Yes. Older, but same build, same type of movement.”

“I’ll pull copies of the security footage for the entire hospital before we leave; see if we can figure out where he was and what he was doing here.” 

“We’ll meet you where we originally parked the van,” Eliot decided.

Parker went back to the parking lot and found a spot in the shade to watch for her partners. She could feel the combination of exhilaration and annoyance fizzing under her skin, making her twitchy. They had been so close to completing this job with no complications, but she had sent the entire team down a rabbit hole.

Eliot arrived first, parking the van a few spots away. Getting out he came over and studied her. Parker examined him in return. There was strain around his eyes that she didn't like seeing there. The expression brought to mind the last time they’d run into Dubenich, and how Eliot had almost shot him, something that their hitter didn’t do anymore. He probably had as many or more ghosts in his past than she did.

He reached out and rubbed a thumb against her forehead just above her brows. “You’re tense.”

“Ghosts aren’t real, and Dubenich is dead.” Parker knew that she should be trying to comfort him, figure out what to say to ease the tautness in his shoulders.

Eliot shrugged. “We’ll figure it out. Hardison should be back in a few minutes. You going to be alright?”

Parker made a face. “Yeah. You?”

Another shrug. “I’m glad he didn’t see you, whoever he was.”

“I’m glad he didn’t see any of us,” Hardison added as he walked up to them, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. “I got the footage; I can start combing through it as soon as we get back to our hotel.

Parker shook her head. She’d already gotten her team distracted enough for this case. Eliot wasn’t even trying to find ways to punch Caldwell anymore. “We finish this job, and then we figure out who he is,” Parker decided. “How close are we to getting Caldwell prosecuted?”

“Just need to get the the files you stole to the right people. A day, maybe two to make sure that our contact follows through.”

“That’s first. Figuring out whether it was really Dubenich will come next.”

Eliot and Hardison exchanged a look. There was something else she wasn’t going to like.

“Parker, we find this guy, you going to tell Nate?” Hardison asked.

Dubenich had killed Nate’s father; it was the closest they had seen the man they trusted come to cold blooded murder.

Parker sighed. “We’ll figure that out when we know more.”

That was not a phone call she ever wanted to make.


	3. Trails

**Inside the Warehouse**

“Hey, Pete, look at this.”

Pete set down his pile of papers, which really weren’t getting him anywhere, and moved to stand behind Myka so he could look over her shoulder at the laptop.

“Agents Thomas and Hagen have online profiles, but they pretty much disappear from any records after this case on Christmas Eve where they… arrested a group of Santas.” Myka pointed to the screen where the date of the last report was listed. “And that was someone else’s report that mentioned them, though they did file small addendums.”

“So, they have solid online profiles, but Myks, I haven’t been able to track down anyone who has worked with them on a regular basis--no supervisors, no other partners, no one in HR. It’s like they only exist on the web and in a handful of other agents’ reports.” Pete kept his hand on the back of Myka’s chair and leaned over her to shuffle some of the papers around and point out the list that they’d come up with. “I’ve called them all. When Hagen and Thomas show up, no one knows where they came from or where they go afterward.”

Myka leaned back and crossed her arms. Chewing on her lower lip, she looked up at Pete for a moment. “They’re ghosts. I bet they were never with the FBI at all.”

“Yeah. So what are they up to?” Pete moved back to his chair and started re-organizing his stacks. “And is it even our case any more? I mean, think about it, there’s no evidence that they’re using an artifact.”

Myka tilted her head and raised an eyebrow, lips pursed.

“I’m not saying I’m not curious,” Pete added. “But the trail seems pretty cold to me.”

The sound of the gasket releasing and the door opening interrupted Pete’s train of thought, especially since as soon as the door opened, he could hear Claudia and Artie arguing. Not that those two arguing was anything new or different. And something that he could easily interrupt. “Claudia, just who we were needing.”

“You’re back already? What went wrong,” Artie barked, his eyebrows lowering in a scowl.

“There was no artifact, Artie. McSweeten and Taggert are as dull and lucky as they come,” Myka started.

“But they did mention some other agents, Hagen and Thomas, who seem to be ghosts,” Pete continued. “Claud, think you can work some magic for us?”

Claudia came over, dropping her bag beside the table. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can find. What have you got so far… Wait.” She pointed at one of the people on the screen. “Is that one of them?”

“That’s Agent Thomas. Why?” Myka asked.

They were all clustered around the laptop again, looking at the profile picture of a smartly dressed young black man with mischief and humor simmering in his eyes. 

“I saw him in New Orleans. Artie, he was outside the hospital as we were leaving.”

“Was this woman with him?” Myka pulled up a picture of Hagen.

Claudia shook her head. “No, just the other guy. And he wasn’t dressed like an agent--he was wearing jeans and a hoodie.”

“That will give us a place to start.” Artie rubbed his chin as he stared at the mess Pete and Myka had made of the table. “I’m guessing you think that if anyone has an artifact, it would be these two?”

Myka tilted her head, thinking for a moment and shot a look at Pete.

“There’s something off. I can’t say it’s an artifact, but these two are definitely hiding something.”

Artie grunted. “Fine. Claudia, you start with the hospital, see what… Thomas?... Agent Thomas was doing there, and if Agent Hagen was with him. I’m going to make some calls. That man that looks familiar.”

**Portland**

“Any luck?” Eliot asked as he came out of the kitchen, bringing Hardison another bottle of orange soda and a bag of gummy frogs--green, as preferred. The hacker had been hard at work since they’d made it back to Portland; Eliot knew that it was because they all needed to know whether Dubenich had survived.

Hardison stretched, and smiled his thanks as he opened the soda and gulped at it. Letting out a sigh, he turned the computer screen so Eliot could see it. “I was finally able to get a good angle from the hospital’s security footage. What do you think?”

Leaning in with a hand on the table and a hand on the back of Hardison’s chair, Eliot stared at the somewhat grainy image. The man did look like Dubenich--the features were incredibly familiar, but here was something… softer about him. “Can you play it?”

“Sure.” Hardison pulled up the live footage instead of the still and let Eliot watch the clip.

“He moves differently. Same build, same features--older of course--but he moves differently. Look at his shoulders, he’s not the same uptight bastard.”

“You’re not going to pick on the man’s hair and clothes?”

Eliot shrugged. “If the man were going to be coming back from the dead, he’d wear a disguise. Wouldn’t have pegged him as going for the absentminded professor cover, though.”

“So it’s not him?”

Eliot turned to find Parker standing behind them, arms crossed tightly over her middle.

“Come see,” the hitter said.

Parker frowned at the still, which Hardison brought back to the front of the screen. “It looks like Dubenich, but not.”

“I’ll start running facial recognition and seeing what I can track down about our ghost,” Hardison decided. “I don’t want to take any chances--whether this guy is Dubenich, a relative, or a doppelganger, we need to know.”

**Inside the Warehouse**

“Ha. I knew I’d seen him before.” Artie’s excited shout from his desk brought the group running.

“What? What?” Pete asked, leaning over Artie’s chair.

“That man is no FBI agent,” Artie explained, stabbing a finger at the computer monitor. “He’s a hacker by the name of Alec Hardison. He’s been on the government’s radar since he hacked into the Pentagon when he was twelve. Never caught him, though charges seem to be listed and dropped with some irregularity. There was some talk of hiring him in the NSA, but they decided that he probably couldn’t be trusted.”

“So the FBI profile was something he created,” Pete clarified.

“Yes… and I would bet the same is true for Agent Hagen. Claudia!”

“What?”

The return shout came from a distant corner of the office where Claudia was hunkered down with a set of laptops.

Pete looked at her, then at Artie, then back at Claudia. “You two grow more alike every day.” The responding glares he got from both of them made him raise his hands placating gesture. He did think that it made his point for him, though. 

“Claudia, did you find evidence that ‘Agent Thomas’ was with anyone else?” Arite demanded, still glaring at Pete.

“Yeah, another man; older than Thomas, looks like he could compete with you for grumpy. I’ve got him on camera racing from the dining hall through the E.R. and meeting Thomas outside. Couldn’t find anyone else,” Claudia hollered back.

“Thomas is a man named Alec Hardison. I’ll track down known associates.”

“I’ll run facial recognition on his partner.”

“I’ll go get everyone some food,” Pete said, pointing at the door and backing away quietly.

**Portland**

“Hey, Eliot? Can you come here a sec?”

“Can it wait?” Eliot’s grumble came from the kitchen.

Hardison chuckled; Eliot did not like his dinner prep being interrupted. “Nah, man, I’ll come to you.” He synced the questionable files and information over to his tablet and then made his way into the kitchen. Eliot had a few things going--chopping vegetables, some sort of sauce was simmering on the stove, and he occasionally shook and flipped the contents of a saute pan. Hardison leaned against a counter, nearby but out of the way.

“What?”

“Ever hear of something called Warehouse 13? There’ve been threads on conspiracy sites for years, but I never took them too seriously.”

Eliot looked over and raised an eyebrow, a considering frown thinning his lips. “There were rumors of a secret government facility that drew its agents from other federal agencies--people would disappear from jobs and then randomly become involved in cases all over the world. Why?”

“That fits the profile of our Dubenich doppelganger--he definitely isn’t Dubenich, by the way--there was a body, and it was claimed and buried by the family; open casket visitation. Our man’s name is Arthur Nielson, previously Arthur Weisfelt, NSA agent and convicted traitor. The charges were dropped and he changed his name.” Hardison turned the tablet so that Eliot could look at it.

The hitter grunted. “So he’s not Dubenich. That doesn’t explain why you’re asking about a shadow agency.”

“I’ve been tracking him backward from the hospital, and there’s a pattern of activity--he usually only appears when things are hinky.”

Eliot raised an eyebrow, and Hardison couldn’t help but laugh. “Not your kinda hinky, man. Indiana Jones hinky.”

The hitter smirked and shrugged. “So you think Nielson has the arc of the covenant?”

Hardison couldn’t help the squawk of surprise. “You said you hadn’t seen those! You been lying to me this whole time?”

“You tell Parker yet?”

“Wanted your intel on Warehouse 13 first. That girl’ll believe anything you tell her and I never know when you’ll get in that particular mood.”

Eliot laughed, and then paused. His expression turned serious. “Rumor is that the stuff in the Warehouse is dangerous. You want to see what ends up on our Christmas tree after a visit?”

Hardison couldn’t suppress a shudder. “We could be on the Christmas tree.”

Eliot nodded. “Exactly.”

“Right.” Hardison blew out a breath.

“So we tell her?” Eliot asked.

“Tell me what?” Parker demanded, coming into the room with a stack of colored stickers. “I’ve got the board set up downstairs--you have names for me?”

Hardison pushed himself upright from the counter and handed her the tablet. “Just the first one, but I’m working on the others. It wasn’t Dubenich, but he’s not your average citizen either.”

“Good.” Parker walked off with his tablet.

“Parker.” Eliot’s voice was firm and regained her attention. “You going to call Nate and Sophie?”

“Let’s see where this trail leads first. Keep going.”


	4. Puzzle Pieces and Memories

**Portland**

Parker stared at the pin-board that she’d set up next to Hardison’s fancy monitors. The hacker had found pictures of who they thought were the main employees of Warehouse 13, and she’d put them up so she could study them. Move them around. Try to understand their dynamic.

This reminded her of a job they’d done early on, their crew taking on the pick-up crew put together by Starke. But the roles of the Warehouse 13 employees were not nearly as clear to her as their own hitter, hacker, thief.

The man she had thought was Dubenich was not actually Dubenich but a man named Arthur Nielson, an ex-NSA employee who was accused of treason and then dropped off the grid almost entirely only to reappear with this new name and a top-secret job. He appeared all over the world in interesting places when something unusual was going down. Parker pegged him as the mastermind of the group, or leader, or however they structured the team. He was the oldest, had been off the grid the longest.

The next two agents--Pete Lattimer and Myka Bering--had paper trails that went cold around the same time, right after they both worked at an event where there was an assassination attempt on the president. The rumors that Hardison had dug up discussed whether the switch in jobs away from the Secret Service were demotions or promotions. Also, Hardison had double and triple checked that Pete Lattimer was no relation to Jack Latimer--Dubenich’s partner.

That wasn’t the part that intrigued Parker, what did interest her was that there was a notation that Mrs. Frederic was the one who had ordered the transfer. There was no photo of her on the board, and Hardison had not been able to find any information about her. The woman was a ghost.

Both Lattimer and Bering had also been seen at interesting crime scenes around the world. People that Hardison had talked to about their interactions with the ex-Secret Service agents noted that they seemed to be a tight team and asked a lot of odd questions. Parker figured that these two made up one team that Nielson was able to maneuver for whatever jobs Warehouse 13 did, because they were often seen together.

The fourth person on the board was Steve Jinks, ex-ATF, relatively recent addition to Warehouse 13. His record was spotless before he took a new duty station, though there were notes that he had a hard time keeping partners.

Parker was relatively sure that Steve’s partner at the Warehouse was Claudia Donovan, the youngest member of the team and the one that Parker had seen with Nielson at the hospital. Though she didn’t want to examine why too closely, Parker knew that she was the most fascinated by Claudia. From Hardison’s notes, he had determined that Claudia had been in the system, two siblings, both of whom were considered dead before reappearing years later. Hardison noted that Claudia was also a known hacker, though her specialties were different than his. There were many things in Donovan’s file that Parker could relate to, that Hardison could relate to, and it made her more curious about the team that the young woman had surrounded herself with.

But this wasn’t a real job. She had traced the appearances of all five Warehouse 13 agents, and compared it to art that she knew had been replaced with forgeries. The list was extensive, but it wasn’t the type of crime that they usually pursued. It also may not have been a crime, though Parker didn’t necessarily equate “government sanctioned” with “legal.”

Regardless, staring at the photos which stared right back at her, Parker knew one thing for certain. She wanted Nate and Sophie here on this job. They had been working this field longer than she had and might have additional insights.

It was also a bad idea to leave Nate open to being blindsided by a Dubenich doppelganger.

Parker opened her phone and dialed.

**Inside the Warehouse**

Pete slumped in his chair and stared at the ceiling of Artie’s office. Tossing a ball up and catching it gave him some feeling of forward motion, but not enough. This case… wasn’t a case. He had no vibes about the faces of Hardison and ‘Hagen’ looking at him from the whiteboard that they had set up, or from any of the very bizarre cases that they’d been linked to. This was the Warehouse chasing its collective tail, something that they should be leaving to Trailer. But Artie didn’t like the fact that they had run into a team of thieves while on a case, so here they were going in circles.

“Claudia, you see any connections yet?”

“Not since the last time you asked me,” she retorted, now stationed at Artie’s desk since Artie himself had disappeared a couple of hours ago. “Wait. Wait, wait, wait. That can’t be right.”

“What? What?” Pete demanded, coming over to peer over Claudia’s shoulder. She had multiple photos of the same man in completely different contexts.

“This guy, the guy I saw with Thomas, I mean Hardison, he’s… a hockey star, and a baseball star, and a country music star? It’s the same guy, younger and with longer hair, but the same man all the same. How did no one realize that this is the same man?”

Saved by the door gasket, Pete thought as someone came into the office; Claudia was starting to sound sincerely annoyed and he didn’t have an answer.

“Steve! Welcome back. How was your mom’s party?” Claudia waggled her eyebrows at her partner. “Was Liam there?”

“Liam? The All-American Marshall? I didn’t know you were seeing him again, man, congratulations!” Pete chimed in, turning around to hold up a hand for a high-five.

Steve huffed at Claudia’s expectant and excited expression and ignored Pete. “Yeah, he was there. But what exploded while I was gone? Was Pete left in charge of the office?”

“Ha, ha, very funny.” Pete made a face at the younger agent. “But now that you’re here, you can come over and take a look; we have a mystery on our hands.”

“Ping?” Steve asked.

“No, no ping.” Claudia sighed wheeled her chair so that there was more room for Steve to look at the screen. “Artie and I ran into these guys--” she pulled up the footage she’d gotten at the hospital “--while we were on a snag and bag in New Orleans. Artie thinks that they were there for the same thing we were because Hardison is known to run with thieves.”

“And artifacts are worth money,” Steve added. The younger man frowned. “Hold on, can you pull up a better photo of his partner, Claud?”

Claudia snorted. “Would you like him in a hockey uniform, a baseball uniform, or holding a guitar?” She pulled up the other photos that they’d just been looking at.

“I never saw him like that, but I know this guy… His photo kicked around the ATF when I was in training--I think he was listed as a professional hitman and should always be considered armed and dangerous.”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “A hitman? Are you serious? And then he went to play hockey?”

“Not that different really,” Pete muttered. “The guy’s listed as an enforcer.”

Both Steve and Claudia shot him looks that said _you’re not funny_.

Turning her attention back to Steve, Claudia asked, “I don’t suppose you remember a name?”

Steve made a thinking gesture, his expression moderately frustrated. “The man was a myth, I remember that much, one of the things that older agents would use to scare the crap out of newbies. Worked for a really bad crime syndicate for a while… Spencer. Adam? Evan? No. Eliot. Eliot Spencer.”

Spinning around, Claudia immediately started typing. Seconds later, the screen was filled with records from countries across the world. She whistled. “This is one scary dude.”

“And he’s working in the states now? With a thief?”

“Thieves,” Artie corrected from behind them.

Pete jumped. He felt somewhat better that Steve and Claudia started as well. Glaring at their boss, Pete grumbled, “Mrs. Frederic should be the only one allowed to do that.”

“You find something else?” Claudia asked, holding out her hands for the stack of papers Artie was holding. “These are other known associates?”

“Names and faces. It’s a crew. This crew could be trouble.”

Pete pulled out his cellphone to call Myka. When Artie made these sorts of dire predictions, he usually wanted all hands on deck.

**Portland**

“I’ll admit this isn’t exactly the way I was hoping to see you all again, but…” Sophie gave an elegant shrug before she hugged Parker. “Sounds like there’s something a bit odd going on around here.”

Nate raised an eyebrow at Sophie. “Nebulous,” he added. “You planning on running a game?”

Parker studied Nate. He looked more relaxed than she’d ever seen him, which was good. “I’m not sure yet. As Hardison says, the whole thing is hinky. Hoping that you can give us more information.”

“You were on the job longer than any of us.” Eliot came in carrying a tray with mugs and a pot of coffee. “Ever hear rumors of Warehouse 13?”

Frown lines creased Nate’s forehead. “There were a few insurance fraud cases… people claiming that they had their objects authenticated as the original. Sometimes they knew the object had been switched, sometimes they didn’t. Thought they were far-fetched excuses. You think it’s real?” 

Hardison came into the room, holding a tablet. Parker looked around and realized that the scene was so familiar that it made her ache. Hardison must have sensed it too because he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze as he took control of the monitors. “We’re pretty sure it is, now. We’ve narrowed it down to a number of people who have patterns of behavior that are consistent with the rumors and conspiracy boards. Eliot’s also talked to people.” The hacker shot an ironic look at the hitter, which was met with a relatively bland glare. “Shady people know other shady people and all that. Especially when it comes to government secrets. So here’s our list.”

“We’re curious to know whether either of you have run into any of them. Neither Eliot or I have met any, but Hardison is familiar with Claudia Donovan.”

“Yeah, she’s a well-known and respected hacker, almost my caliber, but we’ve never crossed paths--virtually or physically. She did a lot of coding and script work, actually ran a few of those conspiracy boards I mentioned, but then dropped off the map entirely. Now she’s with these guys.”

Sophie sat bolt upright in her chair as she looked at the faces Hardison put up on the screen. “Wait. I remember him.” She pointed at the youngest of the men, who had a closely shaved head and wry smile. “He was so annoying, almost ruined my con. I had been cultivating a mark, and we ended up getting questioned by ATF agents--the mark was smuggling firearms, but I had no idea he was so bad at it. Anyway, any time I said anything, that man would just look at me and say ‘you’re lying’. No matter what it was, my name, what I was doing there, trying to support my mark so I didn’t lose him, he’d just smile and say, ‘you’re lying.’ He had no respect for a good grift!”

Parker blinked and looked away from Sophie, whose expression still showed annoyance and offense at even being faced with this man’s photograph. Nate had his hand over his mouth, trying to hide a smile by the time Sophie had finished her rant. Hardison’s eyes were wide, and he did not try to hide his grin. Eliot just shook his head when she met his eyes. Sophie would be Sophie. She took a lot of pride in her grifting.

Hardison cleared his throat to cover a chuckle. “Yeah, that’s about what I found from reports from his previous partners. His name is Steve Jinks, and his habit of telling people he knew when they were lying did not earn him many friends.”

“Recognize anyone else?” Parker asked.

“Other than the man who looks like Dubenich?”

“And is not Dubenich. I thoroughly checked and Victor Dubenich did die,” Hardison assured Nate, speaking to the tone in Nate’s voice rather than the words.

“That is not Dubenich,” Nate repeated. “No, I don’t recognize any of them.”

Their old mastermind looked at each face in the room. “What are you hoping to gain from this?”

Parker looked at Eliot, then at Hardison. They both nodded at her, saying that they’d go along with whatever she wanted on this job. It wasn’t really a job, but the challenge of it had gotten under her skin. It itched. Figuring out what Warehouse 13 was, what it held, why the government was hiding it. Knowing why the two crews kept missing each other by minutes on some jobs. Making sure that they weren’t hurting people when they stole things. Maybe getting the chance to steal from a place that didn’t exist. 

“We need to know,” Parker said.

**Inside the Warehouse**

Artie sighed as he stared at the web of paper and thread on his whiteboard. He and Claudia had tracked a team of five through a variety of odd cases that resulted in landslides of evidence against criminals who otherwise were untouchable. Myka and Pete had used their contacts to talk to law enforcement on state and federal scales to learn that this team would set up in a city for a while, then burn through identities and have to move on. He just didn’t know whether they were a threat to the Warehouse, or if the fact that separate pings had thrown them all together would draw their attention.

“Arthur.”

Even though he had had decades to get used to Mrs. Frederic appearing without warning, he still twitched every time. At least he didn’t jump so often any more. Sighing, Artie turned to look at the ageless woman in a fifties suit who was now standing by his right shoulder. “Mrs. Frederic.”

“You’re concerned about a breach of Warehouse security.”

It wasn’t a question. Artie knew some of what could happen to people who breached the security of the Warehouse. From what he’d read about this crew, he wasn’t sure how he felt about those things happening to them. None of them were good people, but…

“I think that we may have a case of mistaken identity,” Artie agreed. He’d seen the files on Victor Dubenich and realized what must have happened. While the teams had both been on different cases in the same New Orleans hospital, he must have been spotted and mistaken for the dead man. Claudia had found evidence that the thieves had unearthed who worked in the Warehouse--though their hacker had not yet made it into the Warehouse itself.

“And that they will come looking.”

“Yes.”

“I know Mr. Ford, and his reputation. He is a good investigator but was considered too inflexible to ever be a good Warehouse agent.”

Artie pushed at his glasses and stared at Mrs. Frederic. “You considered bringing him on.”

“Briefly, yes. When his son died, we knew that we had made the right decision.” Mrs. Frederic looked at Artie over the top of her glasses. “May I suggest heading them off at the pass? I particularly don’t want Parker in my Warehouse; who knows what a thief of that caliber would pocket.”

However politely worded, Artie knew an order when he heard one.


	5. To Snag a Con

**Portland**

Parker crouched on the roof of an office building in Univille, South Dakota. It was too low, but there wasn’t anything taller to give her a better vantage point. This town was tiny. When Hardison had done his research, they’d ended up having a debate about whether five strangers traveling through would cause too much notice. Turned out, the people of Univille didn’t seem to care much, as long as one didn’t work for the IRS Warehouse.

That seemed to be the cover for Warehouse 13--an IRS Warehouse that stored everyone’s old tax records. And the town’s residents were not happy with the agents who worked there. Parker had admitted to Eliot that she didn’t understand. She’d never paid taxes. Eliot’s shrug was agreement, but then he reminded her that Hardison made sure that all of their aliases paid taxes.

“So Alice pays taxes?”

“Used to,” Hardison corrected. “Alice got burned with everyone else after Dubenich and Latimer. I let her payments lapse too.”

“Huh.” Parker made a face. Paying taxes sounded horrible.

So the Warehouse 13 agents had to use cover stories in their own town, which Parker could understand. It was always a bad idea to let people know where treasure or government secrets were hidden.

Sophie and Nate were masquerading as a married couple on a road trip, and had started getting intelligence on the town. It sounded like the majority of agents lived in what had once been a bed and breakfast, and frequented the businesses in town. The hacker, Claudia, was known to play at open mic night.

Parker and Nate agreed, at this point the goal was to gather information to determine whether or not they needed to plan a job. Making sure that they got the intelligence without tipping their hand would be the challenge. It was likely that the Warehouse had found out some of their identities as well. She had gotten a call from McSweeten just a week ago saying that a couple of Secret Service agents had been asking questions about Hagen and Thomas. That meant that at the very least, the Warehouse had pictures of Parker and Hardison.

She did not like flying so blind. She wanted a map, she wanted to know what the security was, she wanted to know the potential marks.

The first step would be planting a bug on one of the agents--preferably not Claudia since she was the most technologically adept of the Warehouse agents. And it couldn’t be done by her or Hardison, which left Nate, Eliot and Sophie. Sophie had the best hands of the three of them, but she couldn’t make the plant in if Steve Jinks was present. The ex ATF agent might recognize her. Eliot… Eliot was not always the most subtle, but Parker had been teaching him. Given the rest of the residents in town, she thought he had the best chance of passing unnoticed. Nate and Sophie would be there as back up and a second pair of eyes.

Hardison was camped out in their rented house, keeping track of comms and complaining about the lack of security cameras. Eliot was already in the coffeehouse having scored a table and settled in with a book and a drink. From her vantage on the roof, Parker could see Nate and Sophie strolling down the street, ready to make their entrance. Just as they were entering the coffeehouse a red prius parked on the street outside.

“Donovan and… looks like Jinks just arrived. Eliot you’re only going to have two tries at this unless someone else shows up.”

“Got it,” Eliot’s husky voice replied. “I see them coming in now.”

“We’ve got eyes, too,” Sophie added.

“They’ve got a table toward the front; it’s pretty exposed,” Eliot told her.

“Men’s room?” Nate suggested.

“Yeah. Or if he leaves his coat when he orders a drink.”

“Maybe if one of you distracts him and the other plants a bug?” Sophie offered. “Though if he still does that lying thing…”

Parker could picture the look of disgust on Sophie’s face just from the tone of her voice.

And now it was time for her to listen, wait and keep watch. Eliot, Nate and Sophie would get the bug planted, Parker had no worries about that. Music started coming in over the comms. Open mic night must have begun. Parker didn’t really pay attention to the voices or lyrics; she usually didn’t bother unless it was Eliot singing or it was important for a job.

“Looks like Donovan is up next,” Sophie murmured.

“Jinks has settled in; he won’t be moving anywhere until her set is done.”

“Donovan’s clocked me,” Eliot said after a few songs. “I don’t know if she’s recognized me, but she’s keeping track of me now.”

“It’s dim in here; maybe she’s just curious about a new face?”

“Better to play it safe,” Nate agreed with Eliot. “Maybe see if her curiosity will draw her out?”

“I’ll leave through the back.”

“I’ve got Claudia,” Sophie decided.

“And I’ll take Jinks.”

“Set’s ending, moving now.”

Parker could picture the movement in her mind. Eliot standing to draw attention to himself, and making a direct line toward the back exit. Donovan would signal Jinks to follow him, and then try to pack up her guitar as quickly as possible so she could leave through the front and circle around. Or she would leave the guitar? Either way, Sophie would brush past the young woman and plant a bug. If Claudia’s guitar was still on stage, Sophie would plant a bug in the case under the guise of packing it up and leaving it with the man running open mic night for the coffeehouse. Jinks’s dash for the back door would take him by Nate, who would stumble in his way and plant another bug.

Looked like they probably left three bugs. Parker saw Claudia dash out the front door and around to the side alley, an odd looking miniature gun in her hand.

“They’re armed,” Parker warned.

Eliot grunted in response. “I lost Jinks and I’m on my way back to the house. Sophie, grab my coat and book on your way out?”

“Got it.”

“You get the bugs planted?”

“Yes, and they’re all online. I’ll start working on a backdoor,” Hardison confirmed.

“Meet you all back at the house.”

Parker waited a few more moments, watching Jinks and Donovan meet by the front door to the coffeehouse. The young woman was obviously annoyed at having lost her quarry. Jinks was pulling out a cellphone, probably to call it in.

There went the element of surprise, but hopefully the bugs would go undetected long enough for Hardison to do his thing.

**Inside the Warehouse**

“Artie!”

“What!” Artie barked back. He’d been so close to making a connection.

“Artie, we’re being hacked,” Claudia hollered from the computers.

Turning, Artie could see her typing frantically. “I thought you’d tightened security.”

“I did,” she growled, hunching over her keyboard. “This guy’s good, built himself a back door.”

Artie looked over her shoulder at the code she was writing. “What was his way in?”

“I don’t know. I closed down our networks, so unless he found a way to piggyback in… Dammit, maybe that really was Spencer at the coffeehouse.”

“You saw Spencer? And you didn’t tell me?” Artie knew that his voice showed every bit of his anger and frustration. “The man is dangerous, even if you weren’t sure you should have called in!”

“Calm down, old man, Steve talked to Pete and Myka and they’re looking into it.”

“No. Day or night, you stumble across a hitman, you call me. That’s not up for negotiations, Claudia!” Artie growled. “Did you do a sweep for bugs when you got back from the coffeehouse?”

“No. It was warm enough that we ended up leaving our jackets in the car… I left my guitar on stage.” Claudia flipped open her Farnsworth and didn’t pause for breath when Steve’s face filled the screen. “There’s a bug of some sort, either in my guitar or guitar case. You also need to check the jackets we were wearing last night.”

“You got it, Claud. I’ll let you know what I find.”

“I’m sorry, Artie, I got distracted.”

“Deal with the current problem first. You able to keep the hacker out?”

“I’ve created a loop that should keep him busy for a while, but he’ll figure it out. He’s better than Tyler, and Tyler got in.”

Looking at the screen behind Claudia, Artie noticed something odd. “He’s not trying to find the Warehouse. Hardison’s looking at our algorithm for finding pings.”

Spinning back toward the computer, Claudia pulled up that algorithm. It was where the hacker had gone, but he wasn’t trying to steal the code or rewrite it. He was running scenarios.

Artie frowned. Most people when faced with the Warehouse wanted to know what it held. The files and programs that the hacker was looking at were more about how the Warehouse worked. And if the rumors about what this particular crew did were true…

“Claudia, can you create a trail that will make them think that the entrance to the Warehouse is at Leena’s?” Artie asked.

“Sure, why?” Claudia looked confused.

“I think that it's time we forced a meeting, face to face.”

**Leena’s Bed and Breakfast**

Parker examined the graceful home and the sign out front proclaiming it Leena’s Bed and Breakfast. From what Hardison had been able to dig up on the records of the building, it was now privately owned and no longer taking visitors. Surveillance had shown that at least five people lived here--the owner, Abigail Chow, and four of the agents. The blueprints revealed that the building had too many points of entry for it to truly be secure. As a thief, she appreciated that; but she did wonder what these Warehouse 13 people had been thinking to have somewhere so insecure as their point of entry.

Swinging down from the tree, she was able to pick the lock on the porch door in seconds. Parker held her breath, but the door swung open silently. The house was well cared for, then. She slipped into the house and looked around the sun room.

“I’m in,” Parker whispered.

“Be quick, would you, babe? I gotta bad feeling about this,” Hardison muttered. “The code they write is sophisticated but they don’t have an alarm system?”

“Look around and get out.” The order underlying Eliot’s tone made her huff. She knew what she was doing.

Parker just wasn’t sure exactly what she was looking for. Answers, something that explained why these people appeared and disappeared, why they collected certain objects and not others, and why they were such a closely guarded secret.

The living room was filled with old stuff and books, and looked lived in. There were glossy black and white portraits on the walls, which made Parker pause for a moment--these were art. And she could just barely see the silhouette of someone in an armchair. Backing up slowly, Parker decided she’d try another point of entry.

Just as she neared the doors, she heard nails clicking and a dog barked.

“You must be Parker,” a gruff voice said from the chair. There was a chink of a chain being pulled and a floor lamp illuminated a corner of the living room. “I was wondering when you’d show up, but didn’t hear you come in. Trailer.”

The dog circled around Parker and sat beside the man, panting happily.

Parker froze for a moment, and debated running. The man sitting there was the doppelganger--Arthur Neilson--but he was just looking at her.

“Parker, I can be there in a minute. Just give the word,” Eliot’s voice growled in her ear.

“We couldn’t find a picture of you, but by process of elimination realized that you were probably Agent Hagen,” Neilson continued, completely relaxed. “Cookie?”

Parker stared. This man was just chatting, as if a thief wasn’t standing right in front of him. And he was holding out a plate of cookies.

“I just baked them today; not as good now as right out of the oven, but still fresh.”

“Parker!” Eliot’s voice insisted over the comms.

“You want to talk,” Parker said, still eyeing Nielson and the plate he was holding out. “Why?”

“Well, I think we could run into each other out there, and it would be better to have an understanding before we do. From what we’ve been able to figure out, I don’t think we’re working at cross purposes.”

Parker felt a movement of air and knew that Eliot was suddenly standing right off her left side.

“Mr. Spencer.” Neilson was still completely calm.

“Mr. Nielson.”

“Call me Artie. I’m no threat.”

“I doubt that,” Eliot moved so that he was between Parker and the seated man. The dog came over and sniffed the hitter before going back to sit next to Artie.

“Oh, let me clarify. I’m no threat to either of you,” Artie said as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

Parker frowned. This man. This man who stole objects from around the world, who had worked for the NSA and disappeared, acted as self effacing as Eliot when he was on a grift. It was a good strategy, caused people to underestimate the danger.

But Nielson said he wasn’t dangerous.

“Artie!” A man in his thirties bounded into the room, all energy and excitement. “Artie, Claudia and Steve found the hacker and his van and are going to invite him… Oh, you’re here already.”

In front of her, Eliot went taught, completely on guard.

The other man just smiled. “I’m Pete, wow you really do have that glare down, don’t you? No wonder Steve said you were the boogeyman.”

Hardison snorted in their ears. “Boogeyman. I’ma have to remember that. By the way, I’m coming in with Donovan and Jinks. They’ve got ray guns that look like they came out of an HG Wells movie and are glaring at me for talking, but forewarned should keep the shooting down, right you two?”

“You okay?” Eliot demanded.

“Yeah, man, all good.”

Parker looked at Artie, who had set the plate down and was eating a cookie. The older man slapped at Pete’s hand when he would have grabbed one. This was turning out to be the strangest break and enter she’d ever experienced.

“Myka coming in soon?” Arite asked.

“Oh, yeah, she’s tailing the other two. She called a minute ago; they’re on their way and should be here shortly,” Pete said.

Parker exchanged a look with Eliot. Guess the two crews were going to meet face to face after all. The hitter shrugged and moved to hold up a wall, while Parker decided to perch on the back of the couch.

“Not very talkative, are they?” Pete muttered to Artie.

Parker just continued to watch them.

****

*******

Pete kept an eye on the two intruders while trying to appear non-threatening. Spencer’s posture indicated he would snap at the slightest provocation, and while Pete knew he was well trained, he was aware that he wasn't in the same league as the man glaring at him from the other side of the room. The thief, Parker, looked unconcerned if still confused from where she was sitting on the back of the couch.

“Hope you don’t mind if we wait until the others get here,” Artie told them, also maintaining a very intentional relaxed air. “It’s easier than having to repeat all of this.”

Thankfully, Pete heard the front door slam open just moments later.

“Pete?” Claudia hollered.

“Living room. Move slow, the boogeyman doesn’t look very happy,” Pete called back, shooting an ironic look at Spencer and receiving a glare in return. Myka could be scarier, Pete decided.

“No worries,” Claudia’s voice preceded her into the room. She was closely followed by a tall, muscular black man with curious eyes and wry smile. Hardison, the hacker. “I already had to put away the tesla because Hardison here kept wanting to play with it. Also, sounds like he’s interested in H.G., but I think that’s gonna stay above his paygrade. Ooh, Artie made cookies!” Claudia snapped one up off the plate before going to sit backwards on a chair and take stock of the room.

Hardison crossed over to Parker and Eliot, and Pete could see the silent, tight connection between the three of them. The hitter nodded and his stance eased slightly as Hardison took the cue and lounged on the couch next to Parker’s legs.

Steve was the third person in, and quietly took a place against the wall opposite Eliot. They assessed each other but said nothing.

Claudia grinned when she saw Spencer. “So you’re the hitman Never knew that hitmen were also famous for playing baseball and made ads for energy drinks in Japan.”

Pete saw Spencer’s face twitch. “Wait, you stopped to take time and film some energy drink ad in Japan when you were pretending to be a baseball star?”

Hardison grinned, and looked immensely pleased with himself. “I made that, sold the role.” 

Spencer’s face was caught between a glare and a smirk, which made the man look a lot less threatening, Pete decided. So the man had a sense of humor. Good.

“So y’all are top secret government agents who maintain a warehouse full of stuff that everyone thinks are tax records. Do you really have the arc of the covenant?” Hardison asked, leaning forward, elbows on knees.

Artie held up a hand, “Wait. The others should be here shortly.” He absentmindedly stroked Trailer’s head until the dog sighed and lay on the ground beside the chair.

“We’re here, Artie.” Again, the voice preceded the procession. Pete watched as Myka came into the room, followed by a couple who was older than him and younger than Artie.

The man, Nate Ford according to what Artie and Claudia had found, immediately checked on the other three. “You alright?”

Parker nodded.

“That’s good to hear. That one tailed us all the way here and then told us we were expected. I think we’re losing out touch,” the woman--Sophie Devereaux said as she sat down. Her expression indicated her annoyance.

Pete caught Myka’s look and shrugged. He wasn’t sure exactly where Artie was going with this, but everything seemed alright so far. No one had gotten into fights, and there were still cookies left. He could smell them, and it was making him hungry.

“Now that you’re all here,” Artie started, folding his hands over his chest and settling back. “I want to tell you that you are not welcome in my Warehouse.”

“And that got their attention,” Pete muttered to Myka, who was standing right next to him. Each of the thieves were now staring intently at Artie.

“Then why get us all here?” Ford asked.

“So that you will know that we are not ghosts, Mr. Ford. I am not Victor Dubenich, and we are here to help people, not hurt them,” Artie said directly, holding Ford’s gaze.

“He’s like Nate,” Parker whispered, not quietly enough--the whole room could hear her.

Pete snorted. Really, they had an irascible, chess-playing leader too? But then he caught Nate exchanging a look with Parker, passing the conversation to her. He wasn’t their leader then?

“So you wanted to talk to us just in case we run into each other on a job.” Parker was focused on Artie. “You steal things, keep them hidden. Why?”

“As your friend alluded to, some objects are dangerous. We find them and keep them from hurting people.”

Parker’s eyes narrowed. “Why does the government want to collect dangerous artifacts. You weaponizing them?”

Pete let out a silent whistle. That was a scary thought. Not that politicians hadn’t thought of it, or tried it. And of course there had been Paracelsus. But she thought that they would... 

“No. The Warehouse is older than any government in existence. We are hosted by a government, but we are not run by one,” Artie hurried to explain. “That’s why you’re here, you wanted to make sure we weren’t going to use them against people.”

“‘Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely,’” Spencer muttered from his corner. “I wouldn’t blindly trust anyone with the type of power you’re talking about.”

Artie sighed, and shoved at his glasses. “Our agents are always carefully selected, never from the same branch, and always with the qualities required to serve in this capacity. We are overseen by people who are not a part of any government, but represent humanity as a whole.”

“Sounds pretty idealistic. That working for you?” Hardison questioned.

Artie’s smile was wry. “Most of the time. Sometimes better than others.”

“Why tell us?” Parker demanded.

“We ran into each other in New Orleans, Pete and Myka were questioning the most boring FBI agents on earth because of what turned out to be their connection to you, and I’ve found at least three other cases in the last year where we almost ended up colliding,” Claudia said from her corner.

Hardison raised an eyebrow, “‘Only three? I was up to five. You count the Met Gala last year?”

Claudia’s eyes widened. “That was you?”

“Yes it was. Nice work by the way, clever way to get through security.”

Claudia made a face at the other hacker, and Pete heard Myka suppress a laugh.

“Yes,” Artie agreed, shooting glares at both of them. “We seem to run in related if different circles. From what I gather, you help people that the law cannot. We help people who run afoul of...things.”

Ford grunted and crossed his arms over his chest. Pete gathered that the man wasn’t impressed. His loss.

“So, any questions?” Artie asked, looking at Parker and pretty much ignoring Ford and Devereaux.

Parker narrowed her eyes at him, then studied each of the Warehouse agents. Finally she cocked her head to one side and asked, “You’re sure a tour is out of the question?”

“Yes!” Artie exclaimed, in chorus with Eliot and Hardison.

Pete watched the two thieves exchange a look. They definitely had some particular image in mind that they wanted to avoid.

“I wouldn't take anything,” she protested, looking first at Hardison, and then over her shoulder at Spencer.

“You’re lying,” Steve chimed in with a smile.

Oddly enough, that caused Devereaux to glare at the young agent, not Parker.

Parker sighed, and then turned to face Artie again. “You stay out of our way, we’ll stay out of yours. We find anything--” she glanced at Hardison for help with a word.

“Indiana Jones hinky,” he contributed.

“Hinky,” Parker agreed. “We find anything hinky like that and we’ll leave it to you.”

Eliot snorted. Pete caught the ironic look and realized that it was pretty much the same as what Myka gave him on occasion. Cultural references weren’t always appreciated.

“You can use the front door on your way out,” Artie said with a wave in that direction.

Pete watched the other team file out. There were looks exchanged--Ford glared at Artie, Devereaux huffed as she passed Steve, Hardison tossed a wink at Claudia, who responded with a ‘live-long-and-prosper’ gesture. Spencer was the last one to leave the room, and Pete was absolutely positive that the man had clocked each of them during the short conversation.

As soon as they disappeared, Pete heaved a sigh and looked at Myka. “Well that was fun. Can we finish the cookies and hope we never meet them in a dark alley?”

“I dunno, Hardison’s pretty cool, and I get the feeling that Parker is wild,” Claudia protested, grabbing another cookie from the plate.

“You’re just impressed because he actually talks the same language as you,” Steve teased. “I will say, he spits out enough words per minute it was hard to tell exactly which ones were lies.”

Myka sighed and flopped on the couch. She looked around, “We’ll have to sweep this in the morning. Think they’ll respect the boundaries?”

“She wasn’t lying about that,” Steve assured her.

“For now. Claudia, I think keeping tabs on them and all their aliases would be a wise precaution,” Artie decided.

“Can do. In the morning, though, because I’m beat.”

Pete agreed. Grabbing a handful of cookies, he saluted the room and retreated.

**Portland**

“Satisfied?” Eliot asked, placing a mug of hot chocolate in front of her.

Parker nodded. They had gotten answers, if they trusted what the man with the eyebrows and wild hair had said. She still would have liked to see the Warehouse, what it held. She suspected that she would recognize more than a few pieces of art that she had gone to steal and found replaced with forgeries.

“Nate and Sophie made it off alright, though they were vague about where they were headed next,” Hardison told them as he came back into the room and slumped in the chair next to Parker. “You okay with them leaving again, babe?”

Parker looked at her partners, and the concern in their faces. She thought that they’d already figured it out… “Yes. I’m alright with it. It was good to have them around, but they don’t fit like they used to.”

Eliot kissed the top of her head and then headed back to the kitchen. He reappeared with beers for himself and Hardison, taking the third seat at their table.

She knocked her feet against Hardison’s shin, “You okay?”

“Yeah. Wish he’d actually answered whether the arc of the covenant is down there somewhere,” Hardison replied with a sigh. “That woulda been so cool.”

“Smart of him not to let the two of you anywhere near it,” Eliot said, holding up his beer for a toast.

“We’ll see them again.” Parker was sure of it.


End file.
